


it's the bomb that will bring us together

by sternenrotz



Category: The Horrors (Band)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts, Trans Male Character, a LOT of sloppy makeouts and feelings, faris is the most understanding sappy boyfriend ever, i started writing this in november which is why it has an actual plot, joe doesn't appear but he still gets talked about a lot, josh acts weird about having feelings and throws his dick across the room, theyre both drunk in the first sex scene be wary if that squicks you i guess, tom is there too, trans girl rhys makes an appearance at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenrotz/pseuds/sternenrotz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6 snapshots of Faris and Joshua's relationship and 7 morning afters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's the bomb that will bring us together

**Author's Note:**

> titled after "Ask" by the Smiths.
> 
> I started writing this in November before I decided to stop giving a fuck and write gross trans boy Josh porn all the time which probably explains the amount of plot.

When Faris meets Josh Hayward, it’s at Tom’s house-warming party and they somehow get stuck talking to each other. Faris doesn't normally like parties, but here he is. He isn’t sure how Tom knows Josh, because Tom knows everyone, or maybe Josh did tell him earlier that night and he just forgot about it with his head all fuzzy off the beer and the spliff that they’ve been passing back and forth. Actually, Faris is pretty sure that he fell in love with Josh sometime in between when he got his ziploc baggie of weed out and asked Faris if he wanted a share, and now, when he’s waving that spliff back and forth while talking about guitar amps.

Faris doesn’t play guitar, he can sorta-kinda play drums which is neither here nor there, but Josh is making it sound like both the easiest thing in the world and like some sort of fantasy thriller rainbow roller-coaster ride, so it’s rather intriguing. Also, his voice is nice and not too deep, and he’s got pretty plump lips that curl around every single word he says, and Faris can see a bit of the thin trail of hair leading down his stomach every time he raises his arm, and that’s rather nice as well. Everything about Josh is rather nice, in fact, and Faris figures that he should maybe say something instead of just staring at him.

“So. So you’re in a band, then?”

“Nah. Not really.” Josh coughs and passes Faris the spliff and says, “would be nice if I was, but you know, all the bands round here are pretty shite.”

Faris takes a drag and laughs at the expression Josh gets on his face when he says 'shite' and Josh’s annoying lady friend giggles at him. The thing about Josh is, he’s pretty much flawless with his stupid hair and his pretty eyes and his big hands, but he’s had this bird attached to him for pretty much the whole night. She’s kind of pretty, actually, in a goth way with dyed black hair and painted fingernails and runway model cheekbones and small breasts, and Faris can kind of understand why Josh is hanging out with her. On the other hand, she’s got this annoying nasal voice and never shuts up, and every time she laughs she kicks her dainty heeled winklepickers against the arm of the sofa that Faris is lying on and the sound drums in his brain.

When she’s done with doing that, Faris passes the spliff over to her, and then he says, “I’m in a band. I play drums.”

“Oh,” Josh says, mock pitiful, “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, nah, it’s okay. We are pretty shite. It’s just me and some of my friends.”

The annoying bird giggles and pulls at her tights and Faris wishes she would just. Not. Also, he wishes that the conversation was more focussed on Josh and things Josh is knowledgeable about, so he says, “but you, I bet you’re good.”

Instead of Josh, the bird opens her mouth to reply, “he is. He's great. He builds all his own equipment and that,” and she sucks on the spliff _again_ , even though Faris is pretty sure that violates the 'puff once and pass' codex they'd established, and makes moon eyes at Josh, who smiles back at her. Their fingers brush for a long second when he picks the spliff from her little hand, and Faris has to resist the urge to yawn or groan or something like that.

“You play acoustic or electric?”

“Electric only.” Josh does this thing where Faris is pretty sure he's trying to blow smoke rings, but it just makes him look like he's bobbing down on an invisible dick, and that kind of makes this whole conversation much more tolerable. Faris is also pretty sure this means he hasn't gotten any for far too long. “You're a cunt if you play acoustic.”

“True,” Faris says and grins up at Josh and his pretty eyeliner and his lovely white neck, and then he stares into the cherry of the spliff because otherwise he might just keep staring at Josh for the rest of his life.

“You know those guys who carry around acoustics and start playing them even though no one asked them to and they're always playing bloody _Wonderwall_ ,” Josh continues.

Faris laughs. “Yeah. Sit back down, mate, you're not bloody Alex Turner.”

“That's the type of guy I'd never wanna be. Like, who even wants to be Alex Turner?”

“Nobody wants to be Alex Turner,” Faris answers and watches Josh take a drag off the spliff.

“I don't think Alex Turner wants to be Alex Turner.”

The bird starts giggling so hard she nearly falls off the couch, but Josh is there to hold her steady in one arm, and Faris is one-hundred-percent sure he's in love with Josh.

They lose each other when the bird excuses herself to the bathroom and Josh says he's going to go get another drink, but later that night, Faris is smoking on the balcony and when he looks up, Josh is there again, beer in one hand and fag in the other, and this time his bird isn't anywhere to be found either.

When Faris has probably been looking at Josh for too long, Josh says, “hey,” and Faris says, “hey back.”

He coughs for too long and drops his half-smoked fag onto the floor, and, way to go. “So. So your lady friend's a bit of a handful, yeah?” Faris is _so drunk_.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Josh looks at him with this stupid smile on his face like he's trying to not laugh and appear sympathetic, and his teeth are so _sharp_ , and that just makes it worse, and then when Faris fumbles for his packet of fags, he asks, “need a light?”

Faris kind of hates Josh for so obviously wanting to laugh even when he's hiding behind his stupid sympathetic face, but Josh leans in too close to flick his lighter, so close that his face gets all orange with the tiny flame and Faris can smell his hair product, so he also kind of loves Josh.

“Thanks, man.” Josh doesn't move away, so Faris doesn't either, and then when he's made a point of exhaling a cloud of smoke away from Josh, he says, “don't get me wrong, she's fit, good on you, but she seems really stupid to be honest, I don't know how you put up with her,” and, Faris is making an arse of himself.

Josh laughs and it's this weird cackle and nothing like what Faris expected, but it fits him ridiculously well. “Wait, are we talking about the same person here?”

“I was talking about your girlfriend. The bird who was hanging on your arm the whole time?”

Josh takes a sip of his beer and laughs again. “Dilys isn't my _girlfriend_. She's my best friend, that's all.” He leans back against the balcony's banister, deliberately-casual, and Faris is too drunk for this. It's too much, Josh is too much, and frankly, he can't be fucked trying to figure out if Josh is trying to flirt with him or not.

So he just stares at Josh. “No sexual tension?”

“None at all.” Josh lets a bit of the ash from his fag drip down and grins and he's just ridiculously confident and Faris wishes he was the type of drunk where the liquor boosts his self-esteem. “I mean, she's great, and like you were saying, she's pretty fit, but I don't think we're each other's type, exactly.” He says it like he's putting it in quotes, or italics, like it's supposed to _mean_ something, and laughs.

Faris is definitely being flirted with. “You saying you're both gay?”

“Bisexual.” Josh grins with too many pointy teeth. He reminds Faris of an animal, a puppy, perhaps, or a bear. Faris isn't sure how that's supposed to be a reassurance that he's not sleeping with that bird, or if it's supposed to be one at all. He couldn't possibly be drunk enough to deal with this. Then, Josh says, “seventy-thirty, I reckon. I'm like, seventy percent homo.”

Faris laughs. It's all he's got left.

“So how about you? You've got a girlfriend?” Josh sips his beer again and says, “don't take this the wrong way, mate, but it'd be a bloody shame if you didn't, you're fit as hell, I mean.”

He says it so matter-of-fact that Faris can't be sure if he's actually being hit on or if Josh is just letting his drunk mouth run. He's got to suppress this embarrassing little grin, though, and suddenly he's really grateful that he's got a complexion not prone to blushing. Fucking _hell_ , he's drunk.

“Nah,” Faris goes and hopes it sounds nonchalant. Then, since the topic's been brought up, he says, “not got a boyfriend either.”

“So that means we're on equal footing.”

Faris ponders that for a split second. “Eighty-twenty.”

And Josh, stupid bear boy Josh whose hair is all tousled and falling into his forehead, laughs that drunken witch cackle, and then he says, “mate, you're gay as _hell_.”

 

–

 

The next morning, or noon or maybe afternoon, Faris wakes up back in his own room with a buzzy big head, as well as a smudgy phone number and _JOSH_ in scratchy blue biro pen on the back of his hand. He gets up to piss and finds that he's got a near-perfect mirror image of that number imprinted on his cheek, and then he goes to make tea and, while he waits for it to boil, copies the number down into his phone. He stirs a sugar into his cup and writes a text, _This is Faris. Want to do something sometime this week?_

If someone asked, he would say he's pretty glad he ended up going to that party.

 

–

 

When people ask about his childhood, Josh says that he grew up on an island. This little isle in the middle of the Thames that no one's ever been to or heard of. Technically speaking, it's not a lie. His parents moved to London when he was sixteen and starting college, and before that, he didn't really exist. He doesn't tell people that, but he reckons it's literally the same thing as growing up in an isolated little place. It's a good metaphor.

The first time he goes out to meet Faris, which is technically a date, but Josh isn't going to let himself think of it as that just yet, they're in a café, and Faris asks him where he's from.

“I'm from Hull,” he says, after that, “came here to go to art school.”

Faris is an artist. The compulsive annoying kind, who's constantly scribbling scratchy lines into his notebook even when he's sipping his cappuccino with one hand and holding a conversation. Josh likes artists, sometimes. They're either some of the most lovely or some of the shittiest people he's ever met, but Faris is tending towards the former, probably.

“I grew up on this little island. You know what it's like, when you live somewhere like that,” Josh says, and it isn't a question. “When everyone knows everyone and if you're not what they think is normal you're an abomination or something like that.” He laughs. It's the awful dry deep one.

“Yeah, basically.” Faris looks down at the table between them, at their hands there.

Faris has nice hands. They're soft, kind of slender, not meaty and calloused like Josh's have become with playing guitar, but also big, bigger than Josh's could ever be and big like his hair and his nose and the whole him. Josh wonders what other parts of Faris are big.

“How do you know Tom?”

Josh takes a sip of his coffee. It's too sweet and too hot and too milky and it's never tasted like that before. He's pretty sure they've had this conversation topic before, when they were both significantly drunker. “Friend of a friend thing.”

“As in?”

“We know him through my flatmate. Joe and Dilys, you know, they've been friends for years, and he's going out with her sister, and that's sort of how we met Tom. Yeah.” Josh is talking too much. He straightens his shoulders and takes a breath, and when he sees Faris' face kind of _crumble_ , he instantly feels bad for saying whatever he just did.

“Oh.” Faris' face contorts painedly, like he's trying to make it look less like massive disappointment, and then he's saying, “you're really not dating Dilys?”

“Of course not,” Josh says, and then, “that sounds bad, but I mean, she's a great girl, just not the type I'd ever date.” Then he's wondering if he's said too much. The same thing he wondered the last time he was talking to Faris and the topic of Dilys came up, but now it's worse because neither of them is pissed-sloshed-drunk, and, well, Faris certainly isn't _dumb_.

Faris looks back at him with this little grin, right now, and he says, “so what _is_ your type of girls you like, then?”

Josh smiles back at him. “I like sturdy girls, y'know.” He thinks back to the last girlfriend he had, which already seems too long ago, who had broad shoulders and a strong jaw, and says, “not flimsy tiny goth broads who get knocked over every time there's a breeze blowing.” Come to think of it, maybe Josh feels bad for that comment too, but then, it's easier to go with the sturdy girls thing. Easier and safer and fuck, social interaction is hard.

“Sturdy,” Faris remarks. “Good word.”

Faris looks so pretty at his side of the table, with his lovely lips and his messy hair and his lanky fingers, and yeah, he's got broad shoulders and a thick neck, that's very _man_ , but Josh decides right then that he wants to wreck him. Wreck-wreck him.

“D'you like sturdy guys too?”

“Not really.” Josh smiles and, because Faris' hand is so close, he reaches his own out a bit further. Faris does not get the hint. “I like the pretty guys. Smaller than me.” Josh says, “shorter than me, usually, but I'll make an exception for you.”

Faris gets the hint. His hand is warm. So is his smile. “So you like being smaller than your girls and bigger than your guys. Got it.”

“Not smaller, necessarily. I just like it when they look like they won't lose to me at arm wrestling,” and, Josh is blabbing on. He hasn't even done any arm wrestling. Like, ever. “What about you?”

Faris looks at him for a second. “Well, you know, the type of guy I'm into. Shorter than me. Wider than me. Weird mix of a physics whiz and a guitar god with really stupid hair.” And then he's smiling all stupidly goofily for a split second, and Josh is so internally flustered that he doesn't even take offence to the jab at his hairdo. “Think you know any guys like that?”

Josh laughs. “Fucking hell, Badwan, knock it off.”

 

–

 

Josh gets home that night feeling like a lit-up wire. Maybe buzzing a little bit. Joe isn't home, so he strips down to his underwear and spends a stupid amount of time wrestling with his binder before he flops down onto the mattress, and only then does he bother with checking his phone, for the first time since he got to the café to find Faris waiting for him. There's one missed text, and he doesn't have to check to know it's from Dilys. _So whats the verdict on tall nose boy? xx_ , and maybe Josh smiles a little bit harder than what would have been necessary. He writes back, _gay. incredibly gay. we held hands and all and he's taking me out again next week_ , and hits send, and then he lights a fag. There's that nervousness creeping up in the back of his throat and all of his guts, the one that always comes when he meets a boy, and he wills it away. Faris is going to be different. He really, really hopes so.

 

–

 

Faris has known Josh for seven weeks and four days, and tonight, Josh's flatmate is out so they're back at his listening to Jesus and Mary Chain records. Josh doesn't actually own any of those, so Faris brought his whole collection over, and now they're both spread out on the bed smoking while _April Skies_ is buzzing about in the back. It's kind of ridiculously nice.

“This is nice,” Josh says, as if he'd read Faris' thoughts.

“What?”

Josh looks at him like he's gone insane or something like that. “This song is.” He makes a vague motion with his hand and then says, “it's all fuzzy, but it's not, like, invasive or anything. It's just nice fuzz that doesn't squeal or burn or distract, it's like, really good backing music or something.” He gets that look on his face again, the one he gets when he's talking about guitars, too, and Faris wants to kiss him so badly.

“Man, you're so weird,” he says, instead. “I like that. A lot.”

Josh does this awkward little version of that witch cackle he's got. “What do you mean, I'm _weird_?” and he says it like it's an insult.

“I don't know,” Faris says. Because, really, he doesn't know how to describe it, because everything about Josh is weird and wonderful and glorious. “Like, your fucking _hair's_ weird, just to start.” Faris watches Josh's face scrunch up and sucks on his cigarette, and he sniggers. “And you're a complete physics geek, but you're also the most knowledgeable about shoegaze guy I've ever met, and that's. That's _weird_ , okay.”

“Like you aren't weird,” Josh points out, but his voice is all soft and nice.

“Yeah, so that means we fit. Like two weirdo peas in a pod.” Faris isn't sure what he's saying with this. He's not even drunk this time. But Josh is right there and under the dim light he looks so lovely that Faris just has to roll over so he can appreciate his face up close, and wow, okay. “I mean, my exes always did say that I was too weird for them. So, you know.” Faris is, once again, making an arse of himself.

“You coming on to me now, Badwan?” Josh asks, eyes crinkly and lips curling like how his face gets when he's trying not to laugh. They're so close, Faris' fag in his hand could touch Josh's fag that's in Josh's hand. Yeah.

“Yeah, probably. D'you mind?” Faris hopes Josh does not mind. Really, it's not like they've been particularly unsubtle about coming on to each other for the past few weeks or so, so Josh probably, indeed, does not mind, but still.

“Not really.” Josh grins with all those sharp teeth and puffs his fag. The smoke only just misses Faris' face, and Josh laughs.

“Great,” Faris says, and all that he can think about is that he wants to kiss Josh. He most definitely should kiss Josh. He takes a second to stub his fag out in the ashtray that they've got carefully positioned on the mattress, and then he goes in for it, but.

“Hang on a second,” Josh says.

Faris stops. “What?”

“Listen.” His one hand reaches out to hold onto Faris' shoulder. “I don't mind if you're gonna come on to me and try to kiss me and that, just hang on.” He pauses for a split second and Faris is so sure he's about to stop breathing. It's all getting very heavy and cloudy in his brain. The air crackles a bit, maybe. Faris feels like a twat. “There's something you've got to know about me.” And Josh pauses again and goes, “fuuuuck,” and Faris feels more and more like someone's pulling his leg. Josh, perhaps. Or the entire universe.

“What are you even talking about?” Faris asks. Time to get on with this.

“Fuck, _okay_. Here you go,” Josh says and takes an extremely long drag off his cigarette. Through the cloud of smoke he exhales, he says, “I was born with a girl body.”

And, okay. Faris' first thought is that it could have been much worse.

 

–

 

The morning after that, when Faris wakes up surprisingly early, the first thing he does is reach for his phone and google “how to have sex with your transgender boyfriend”. Not because he's desperate to pull or anything, he just figures it'd maybe be useful to be informed. The second thing he does after that is google “how long does it take for bite marks to fade away”. Because, really. Josh is a fucking _animal_.

 

–

 

Josh regrets saying it pretty much as soon as it comes out. He hates this conversation and he hates having to have it. And putting it into words that other people can understand. _Born with a girl body._ Really. What he hates the most is the fact that right now, he's having the conversation before he's even gotten around to kissing Faris. Or maybe the fact that he knows that now seemed to be about the best moment to bring it up.

Faris pulls a face when the smoke hits him in the face, and then he says, “okay.”

“You know what I mean, right? You have to really know what I mean.”

“I think,” Faris says. “Maybe.” His mouth is all soft and pretty, and Josh regrets bringing it up even more. He should have just shut up, let Faris snog him for a little while, and then, beat off to the thought of fucking him.

“Like you know I'm still a boy, right? Even without the dick part.” The reason Josh hates this conversation is not just because it always runs a slight risk of him getting his ass beat, but also, because Faris is just _staring_ at him, not even in a disgusted or confused way, and it's making Josh feel like a bit of a twat. He stretches his arm to stub his fag out, just so he's got an excuse to break eye contact with Faris for a few seconds.

“Of course you're a boy,” Faris says. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Josh hates having this conversation. He really thinks that they should be talking less and snogging more. “I mean I'd still like to kiss you. Or be boyfriends with you or whatever.” Josh is most certainly making a twat of himself. “It's just really important that I tell you that now.”

“Okay,” Faris says again. There are definitely too many okays involved in this conversation.

“Okay.”

And then, because he figures if they keep talking for any longer, it'll just get more awkward, Josh leans up to where Faris is still hovering above him and kisses him, about fucking _finally_. Faris tastes like cigarettes, and Josh knows he tastes the exact same so he doesn't complain, and he hums a little bit when Josh presses a hand onto his spine to get him a little bit closer. He's ridiculously _pointy_ , actually, Josh can feel his shoulder blades and the knobs of his spine underneath his hand, and his ribs and hipbones digging in where they're pressed together, and it's uncomfortable, really, but also rather nice. Josh pulls off after what seems like too long, when his lips are already tingling, and takes a second to admire Faris' mouth, how it's gone all swollen and red and even more obscene-looking than before. He takes another second to admire his pretty, long neck, the curve of his Adam's apple and his pointy collarbones under the skin, and can't help but wonder if Faris would let him leave marks all over, if he can try that, maybe. Instead of biting him, though, Josh figures that it's been long enough for both of them to take a breather, so he threads his fingers through Faris' mass amount of hair and pulls them both together again. This time, Faris _hums_ , low and deep and vibrating into Josh's mouth, and his hands finally stop splaying uselessly on the sheets and instead go to his shoulders. Josh's not sure what it is about that that makes him grab Faris' arse and pull him all the way down, but he does, which makes Faris groan a bit, and then he keeps his hand there for a little bit longer. Faris has a lovely arse. Also, his shirt has started to ride up a tiny bit, so that's an excuse for Josh to sneak his other hand up there and rake his nails down the warm skin of Faris' spine. Just to see if he's into that kind of thing.

“You feeling me up back there, Hayward?” Faris asks after a couple seconds, his voice all sexy and heavy already, and _fuck_ , Josh wants to sexually destroy him.

“I guess I am,” Josh replies, and because it's that tempting, all firm and nice under his hand, he squeezes Faris' arse through the denim of his trousers a bit. “D'you mind?”

“Not at all,” Faris replies.

He tilts his head like he's asking for another kiss, so Josh obliges, sinks his teeth into Faris' bottom lip and tugs a bit before he really goes in for it,eat at his mouth, and, yeah. Josh really needs to wreck him and bite him all over, but then he figures that he's got a _really_ bad angle for that kind of thing, so he takes a small second to roll them both over.

“Watch it, mate,” Faris goes when his head just barely _doesn't_ slam into the wall.

His lips are so _red_ , his neck so smooth and caramel-creamy and _inviting_ , so Josh goes back to his mouth for a second before he moves down to his chin, and then his jaw, sinks his teeth in and sucks and licks to make sure Faris' skin turns all red and swollen and gross with spit and really fuck him up.

“Fucking _hell_.”

It sounds like a good kind of “fucking hell”, all husky and heavy, so Josh takes it as a sign that he can continue, and he does. He shuffles a little way down so he can get to Faris' neck and collarbones and bite there, until he tastes blood and Faris just keeps _letting_ him. He's got his hands scratching up Josh's back, not trying to hurt or anything, not like what Josh's doing to him, but still, Josh can feel it all too there, even through his layers of jacket and shirt and binder, and it's just. Fuck.

“Why is it that I just knew you'd be the type who's into biting?” Faris asks, and Josh can _hear_ that stupid grin he's got when he says something he considers himself witty for.

He takes another second to suck on Faris' prominent clavicle, make sure he's going to _really_ leave a bruise, so by the time he pulls back, Faris' collarbone is deep red-and-blue like some art piece.

“It's the teeth,” Josh says. “It's always the teeth, you know.” He quirks his lips to show Faris his little fangs, and Faris' hand scratches along his back some more, and he goes back to what he'd been doing.

“Fu _uuuuuuu_ ck.”

Josh can feel the vibration of the word under his lips when he bites a bruise onto Faris' throat, only to soothe it with his tongue right after, can feel Faris' chest heave with breaths underneath him and his hips rolling softly. Fuck, he needs to destroy Faris. He just _needs_ to. Josh's pretty hard, already, wound-tight and needy and every time Faris' hips push the silicone of his packer up against him it just makes the need worse. He can tell Faris is hard as well, even through their layers of clothes, heated and thick and straining against his trousers so it must be painful, and Josh was right, he really _does_ have a big cock. Just the size that Josh wouldn't mind having inside him, or down his throat, and really. He's pretty sure if he doesn't get around to fucking Faris soon enough he's going to _die_. Then, then Faris' ridiculously huge hand moves all the way down his back and to his arse, and the part of Josh that worries too much and which had been pleasantly off to somewhere else for the whole time he'd been snogging Faris returns all of all sudden, and, fucking _shit_.

Josh removes his mouth from Faris' jaw and goes to look him in the eye, and tries to not get distracted by his puffy lips and hazy eyes while he does it. “I'm not gonna have sex with you tonight, you know.”

Faris hums, like the words aren't quite getting through to him, and then he says, “yeah?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Josh feels like a complete twat for apologising. If anything, he should be apologising to himself for being a complete cockblock. And also for being like this and not being able to sleep with random (lovely, perfect, wreckable) boys without being scared that it'll be weird or end with him getting hurt, and, Josh just hates having feelings a lot. He reaches around himself and pulls Faris' hand from his arse, and then, for good measure, pins the other one down to the mattress as well, and says, “Not that I don't want to. I've just got to be sure that you're not gonna.”

“Not gonna be weird about it?” Faris asks, which is pretty much what Josh was going to say. Josh is pretty sure Faris was made for him.

“Yeah, basically.” Josh really wants a fag. Either a fag or to keep snogging Faris, he's not that choosy. “But don't take this too personally. It's mostly a cautionary measure.” He sounds so much like a twat.

“Cautionary measure,” Faris says. “Got it.”

“Like, you never know if the guy you pulled is going to be gross as fuck about sex just because you've got some parts that he doesn't.” Someone really needs to shut Josh up. Perhaps someone with perpetual sex hair and plump bruised lips and lovely big hands. “Not that I'm saying you seem like that, but.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Faris says. “I get what you mean, I guess.” And he grins and wiggles his wrists around in Josh's grip a bit, but not like he's actually trying to get away. “Can we keep kissing, though?”

“Yeah, sure.” Josh leans down and connects their lips together once more, feels Faris still hard underneath him, and he decides that they're not going to stop doing this until he's made Faris come in his trousers. Or until he goes limp for some other reason, really. “Sorry 'bout your neck, by the way.”

“It's all right.”

 

–

 

Josh regrets turning Faris down for sex pretty much as soon as he's dropped him off at the bus stop down the road looking rather thoroughly fucked. There's light bruises forming on his wrists, bruises on his jaw and some very, very dark bruises on his throat, and his lips are that bit fuller and his hair that bit more sexed-up looking, and it's only contributing to the amount of frustration, sexual and otherwise, that Josh is feeling. He strips off pretty much as soon as he's back in his flat, figures that maybe, a wank is going to make it better. Or two wanks. Then another wank the next morning, after he's just woken up, but each of those wanks is just more frustrating and awkward than the last, especially when he's trying to pretend that the sheets don't still smell like Faris' shampoo and the stinking cologne he wears. By the time that Josh's pulling his too-sticky gross fingers out of himself, after the fourth wank he's had over Faris, he really regrets it. What he regrets maybe the most is the fact that he actually _likes_ Faris, the fact that Faris is smart and lovely and not making a huge deal of this whole gender thing, because if he was just a dumb pretty boy Josh could just fuck him and never see him again and not care about it, but he can't.

 

–

 

So they're back at Faris' shitty little dorm this time around, and this is when they've been something, maybe boyfriends, for roughly a month or so, or at least they've spent a lot of time snogging over the last month. Faris is not sure when he's stopped hating the word snogging. The point is, Faris is _drunk_ , not just regular drunk but roughly as fucking sloshed as he was when he first met Josh, but surprisingly enough, that's not too drunk for him to get it up. Which is probably a good thing, because in addition to all that, he's also snogging Josh once again, and right now, Josh is fumbling with the button on the fly of his trousers.

“Mate,” Josh starts, his voice all low and heated and _heavy_ , “get your kit off.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Faris hisses back, why is he being so quiet, and then he's rolling off of Josh so he can properly wrestle himself out of his skinny fits and pants. He debates with taking his shirt off, as well, but then he figures that the room is too cold for that, and also, he feels weird enough with his lower half naked while Josh's still fully dressed.

“Nice,” Josh comments and grins, and then he's rubbing his calloused fingers up Faris' dick, and, yeah, that's pretty much the one thing that Faris has been waiting for the last few weeks or so. “Nice socks, too.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Faris says, because _really_ , and then he's dragging Josh down to kiss him.

Josh makes a muffled sound of annoyance, or agreement, or both, and his hand keeps doing that weird swirly thing, and, _fuck_ , Faris is in love with Josh.

“You're so good.”

“Yeah, I am,” Josh points out.

He moves down to Faris' throat, bites at a mark from the last time they were snogging which _still_ stings, and Faris contemplates that, while Josh is great at kissing and _excellent_ at hand jobs, he's really got to stop using his teeth so much.

“Fuck,” Faris spits out when he's pretty sure Josh is drawing blood now, but he can feel his dick twitch, and yeah, okay, so maybe he's secretly kind of into it, but still. “Stop _biting_ me.”

“But you like it,” Josh insists and pouts with his plump bottom lip, and then he's apologetically licking over the mark he's just left. “You're getting off on it.”

Faris' back arches a bit when Josh's tongue soothes the sting, the tissue there feeling rubbed-raw, ruined and hypersensitive, because yeah, of _course_ he's getting off on it. “I've been wearing a scarf for over a week because of you.”

Josh grins and shows off those stupid pointy teeth, and Faris takes a few split seconds to admire him right then, his strong thighs straddling one of Faris' own thin legs, his half-undone belt and rustled shirt and messy hair, and right when he says, “poor baby,” Faris' stupid drunken brain finally realises that maybe, Josh wants to get off, too.

“Shush,” he goes, and his one hand pulls Josh down by the nape of his neck to smush their mouths together once more while the other one goes down to Josh's stupid deliberately-half-undone-probably-to-look-cool belt and tugs there, too. “You wanna get your trousers off, too, or...?” he starts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Josh goes, and then he's rolling over to properly undo his belt all the way and slide his jeans off, which actually makes him look kind of stupid, but Faris is unreasonably hard and desperate to get off, so he at least tries to bite back the laugh.

“Nice pants,” he observes and makes a move to get back on top of Josh and tug at one leg of the pants he's wearing. “Can't believe you're making fun of me for keeping my socks on when you're the one who's got pants with fucking _bears_ on.”

“You shut up now,” Josh says and pulls Faris back down to kiss him again, and his other hand goes back to Faris' cock, and, yeah, yeah. Faris is going to shut up. “I'll leave you like this if you don't shut up.”

“Shutting up.”

Faris ruts a bit into Josh's hand, head of his dick rubbing against one of the tiny bears printed onto Josh's pants, which feels ridiculously _wrong_ , actually, and against the bulge in there, which he knows is a rubber dick, because it makes things feel less _weird_ for Josh, actually, and Faris is thinking too much about this, probably, because he's getting a hand job from this lovely, dishevelled boy under him, and _fuck_ , he wants to touch Josh. His fingers dip under the waistband of those stupid pants, just a bit, and Josh grins up at him.

“Do you mind if...”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” Josh breathes, and Faris goes in for it.

He pushes past the rubber dick, before Josh makes a face and pulls it out to throw it across the room, and Faris just points out, “classy.”

“Do you never ever shut up when you're fucking a guy?”

“I'm just saying, throwing your penis across the room isn't exactly gentlemanly.” Faris is such a fucking idiot. He coughs. “So, what do you like, exactly? Touching wise.”

“I don't know,” Josh starts. “Just, like. Try to not be weird.”

Faris suddenly has the realisation that most of their relationship seems to be based on trying to not make things weird, and he laughs, just for a short second. “Okay.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Josh says and flicks his thumb over the tip of Faris' dick, and, right, Faris should probably do something right about now.

He darts his hand further into Josh's pants, just to feel around for a moment, feels rough fuzz and skin, and Josh already all wet and hot, and, _fuckfuckfuck_ , that's. Faris isn't sure what it is, but the fact that Josh's as turned on as he is only makes his dick twitch that little bit. For a second, he listens to Josh's breathing, watches his face, and only then does he actually go ahead and close his pointer and middle finger around Josh's clit. His cock, maybe, that's what he's read online, that it's basically just a really tiny cock. Biologically speaking.

“What do you want me to call it? Your junk?”

“What?” Josh asks. He laughs. “I don't care, I guess.”

Then he's doing this thing with the ring of his fingers at the base of Faris' dick, and it almost _hurts_ , really, but in the best way, and Faris groans and then groans again when Josh is moving in to kiss him some more. Yeah, maybe he shouldn't just lie there and do nothing, though, so he starts to move his fingers on Josh, feels his breathing speed up just a little bit, and, yeah, that and the sound Josh makes against his mouth is only the greatest thing he's ever experienced.

When they finally pull apart, when Faris is working his fingers quickly tugging at that little nub and Josh has his hand at the very base of Faris' dick, almost fondling his balls but not quite, Josh says, “less talking, more fucking.” He licks over a bruise on Faris' throat and then says, “but if you ever call it a pussy I'm going to murder you, so, you know.”

Faris laughs, just for a short second, although it doesn't exactly _sound_ like a laugh, and then, after a second or so, what Josh said really sinks in. The part about fucking, and, yeah, his stomach pulls itself tighter at that thought, and his two fingers speed up and another one dips down to where Josh is all warm and wet and _fuck_ , just rubbing a little. Josh seems to enjoy it even if the angle is incredibly awkward, and at that second, Faris realises something.

“I don't have any condoms,” he says, very matter-of-fact, and immediately feels like he just ruined the moment. When Josh looks at him questioningly, he adds, “haven't pulled in ages.”

“Shame on you,” Josh points out, and now his voice is sounding all _worked up_ , breathy and sexy, “should always be prepared.” He spreads his legs that little bit wider and rocks his hips back against Faris' hand, and then adds, “Guess we can just get each other off like this.”

“Guess so,” Faris breathes back. He's trying not to stare down at where Josh's all spread open for him, at his hand visible under the fabric of Josh's pants where he's got his fingers working and at the muscles of his inner thighs flexing, and, _fuck_. “Just like that, hand jobs?”

“I guess.” Josh presses their mouths back together and hums into it. “I mean, I could go down on you, but I don't like getting oral, so.” He flicks his thumb over the head of Faris' dick, right then, and Faris groans, right into the side of Josh's face because he's completely given up on keeping his head raised. “Too squishy.”

“So just hand jobs, then,” Faris repeats, and the next second, Josh is biting at his lips again.

He groans a bit into the kiss when Faris presses a third finger against him and rubs, and then groans some more a few seconds later when Faris shoves his hand down deeper, not actually pushing in where Josh is all wet and open, he doesn't want to make this _weird_. The palm of his hand grinds over Josh's cock when he does it, though, and that's what makes Josh press his hand into the space between Faris' shoulders that much harder. His fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and that's when Faris realises, really realises for the first time that night just how much _bigger_ Josh is than him. He moves his fingers back, back to where he had them before and he can feel Josh's muscles in his shoulders and neck tightening at that, feel his strokes get a bit clumsy, hectic. Josh's lovely pale thighs are shaking in the dim light, muscles contracting, and Faris can't stop staring once again.

“I like your thighs,” he says, and isn't sure if he means to say it, and then he's completely giving up on holding himself up and sinking down to lie on Josh's chest.

Their mouths are close, so he closes the gap there too, sucks at Josh's plump bottom lip while his hand that isn't down Josh's pants goes to stroke up his one thigh. Like this, the angle's weird, Josh's hand moving awkward and jerky along Faris' cock, and Faris is pretty sure it's awkward for Josh, too, but at the same time, he's got Josh pressed all along him, his sloppy slick mouth next to his own, those thighs surrounding his own legs, and it's lovely, really, really lovely.

“What d'you mean?” Josh asks after they pull apart, eyes lidded and unfocussed, but he's got as much concern in his voice as possible.

“Like that they're all strong, you know?” Faris says, and it's probably not the best way to describe it, but they are, and Faris wants them clamped around his waist, or maybe bracketing his hips while he's on his front and getting fucked. “Like having a guy that's bigger than me, so.” He gets this sudden flashback to the first time he went out on a date with Josh and adds, “so we're balancing each other out,” and then he realises that he's sounding like an idiot about right now, so he goes back to kissing Josh.

“Mate, tone it down,” Josh says after he's turned his head away for a short second, but he's smiling, now, showing off those sharp little teeth, and then he says, “glad you like my thighs, though.”

“Yeah,” Faris says, really, mumbles into Josh's cheek more than anything, and it's right then that he's got an idea. “Hey, can you turn on your side? I've an idea, I mean, if that's okay if I,” and before he can even carry on speaking, Josh is already awkwardly rearranging his legs so he's halfway on his side.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He fumbles for the bedside drawer with one clumsy hand and says, all slurry with what's one bit intoxication and one bit snogged-senseless, Faris really really hopes, “you want to fuck them, don't you?”

Josh squirts a rather large amount of lube into his palm and beckons for Faris to come closer, and then he grabs for Faris' cock and basically pulls him forward by it until Faris is back on top of him and his dick is in that little triangular gap made by Josh's thighs and groin.

He doesn't even have time to go, “yeah, I'd kinda like to,” until he's already in there, and that just makes Faris feel that bit more awestruck and fuzzy in his head, because Josh's just _taking_ what he wants, hands twisting into Faris' hair and the back of his shirt to keep him close and lick at his groaning-open mouth. Faris starts thrusting quickly, too into it already to be careful, and it's tight and slick and almost too much with how hard Josh is clamping his thighs together, but then he's settling into a rhythm and back to kissing Josh properly, back to cramming his hand down Josh's pants to jerk him off properly.

 

–

 

The morning after, Faris wakes up to a hangover not unlike the one he had after the very first time he met Josh, as well as the smell of freshly-brewed coffee. He finds Josh sitting on the couch, some music channel playing on the telly, in his t-shirt from yesterday and with a cigarette in his fingers.

“Hey,” Faris says after a second, when he's almost certain that Josh isn't going to say something first. His memory of last night is insanely fuzzy, beyond the fact that they had sex, and he's got this sudden fear that he did something wrong. Made it weird, or something.

“Hey.” Josh blinks and his eyes are all bleary and eyeliner-smudgy, and he exhales and then says, “sorta helped myself. I ran out of fags.”

“It's okay,” Faris says and sips his coffee, which tastes too strong for him even now, and lets himself flop down onto the couch next to Josh.

“Hungover?”

“Yeah.”

Josh's hand comes to lay itself against Faris' side, heavy and warm, and he says, “sorry, mate.” He grabs for the remote control to turn the TV all the way down, and then it's quiet and Faris just wants to go back to sleep. Or kiss Josh. Maybe do both. The sleep won't come, though, his head's too heavy with hangover and he's too lazy to actually make a move and kiss Josh, so Faris just lies there until the silence gets awkward.

“Hey. Are you wearing my pants?”

Josh makes a weird noise. “Yeah.”

He strokes Faris' back a bit with that hand he's still got there, and it's so nice that Faris hums a bit and sinks down deeper into the couch.

“Not like I had much of a choice. You made a bit of a mess of mine, remember?”

Faris is pretty sure there's blood rushing to his face, or at least, that part of him suddenly feels way warmer than the rest. “Oh.” He presses his nose down into Josh's thigh, the wispy hair there, and hopes that that's not making it weird or anything. And that he didn't make it weird by coming all across Josh's stupid bear briefs last night.

Josh laughs, just for a short second, and strokes Faris' back some more, and then it's quiet again, and Faris is actually beginning to freeze. He doesn't understand how Josh can be wearing not that much more than he is and still be way warmer to the touch, his thigh all soft and warm and smelling of sweat and soap and sex. All that's actually very nice, but Faris is still shivering, and he's pretty sure if he doesn't get more sleep soon his head is going to collapse into itself, and Josh's fingers playing with the hair at the very back of his neck is only making it worse.

“Hey,” he says. “Stop that.”

“But I like your hair.” As if he has to prove that point, Josh twists his fingers around some more. “'s fluffy.”

“You're giving me a headache.”

Faris turns around until he's on his back, until he can see Josh's face, even if it's from an unflattering angle. He doesn't push Josh's hand away when it lies down on top of his head again, because at least this time, it's not doing anything there, and then the silence is starting to get awkward again.

“Hey? Josh?”

“Yeah?”

“We're still boyfriends, right? Or whatever we are?”

Faris realises it's a really dumb question pretty much as soon as he says it out loud, considering he's literally got his head in Josh's lap.

“Of course we're boyfriends,” Josh says, fingers slowly, slowly combing through the mess of Faris' fringe, but Faris is too tired to protest at that point. “We had sex last night, remember?”

“Sure I remember,” Faris replies, he remembers it very well and he'd like to do that all over again. His eyelids drop shut when Josh keeps brushing the tangles from his hair, but as nice as that is, he still keeps talking, “was just wondering if I'd done something wrong or something.”

Josh cackles his most annoying cackle, and the sound of it claws painfully at the insides of Faris' skull and makes him shudder. He can't understand how Josh can be just as hungover as he is right now and still be responsible for a sound that annoying.

“You did everything very right, trust me,” Josh says, still cackling a little bit within it, and his fingers comb Faris' fringe all the way away from his forehead. “Did you know you look like a bird with your hair pushed back?”

Faris blinks up, more at the ceiling than at Josh, and isn't sure if he should be flattered by the first half of that sentence or mildly insulted by the second. After a moment of consideration and reflection, he decides he should probably go for the former, because after all, he did manage to make Josh come twice with his fingers before getting off himself, even when he'd been desperate for it long enough. “Glad you like my sex skills,” he says, and tries to not laugh at how objectively ridiculous that sentence is worded. Yeah.

He must have made a confused face, though, because Josh cackles some more, quietly this time around, and says, “yeah, you look like a large confused bird.” Now he's almost definitely _ruffling_ Faris' hair, and Faris would squirm away from it if he wasn't sure Josh is doing it to piss him off. “A big fluffy neurotic bird.”

“I'm not _neurotic_ ,” Faris insists. There's a list of things he's been called that he'll willingly own up to, he's a huge weirdo and a little bit OCD and painfully introverted and a massive cunt, but he's pretty sure he's not got any neuroses.

“Yeah, you are,” Josh points out and combs Faris' hair back into his face so it's hanging into his eyes. “Always worried that you're making things weird for me,” and then he's back to his stupid giggle while he keeps on playing with Faris' fringe.

This time around, Faris actually laughs along. Yeah, he might be hungover and cold and possibly neurotic, but he's also in love with this weird giggly boy and they're having a _moment_ here and he might explode with weird sappy feelings if he doesn't laugh to release the internal tension, so he does until it's bearable again. It's so weird but Josh is still cackling and playing with his hair and _warm_ and Faris doesn't want this to stop. So maybe they're having a moment.

“Hey, it wasn't that funny,” Josh says, eventually.

Faris finally stops laughing. “I don't know,” he replies. He wants to get back to bed. Not even to shag Josh a second time, he just wants to sleep for another couple hours. Maybe cuddle. “It was to me, I guess.” The idea that just because he cares about Josh that automatically makes him neurotic, and mostly the whole “having a moment” thing, but he isn't going to say that, so instead, he just presses his face back into Josh's thigh and rubs his nose into it a little. “I want to sleep.”

“Sleep, then.” Josh pets at his hair some more and scratches the ticklish bit of skin behind his ear, which makes Faris feel a bit too much like a dog or something like that. A sleepy, slightly grumpy puppy, that's what he is. Yes.

“Sleep with you, I mean.” Faris sniggers for a short second at how sexual that sounds, which immediately strikes him as stupid because he _did_ sleep with Josh, actually, and he adds, “d'you prefer to be big spoon or little spoon?”

“Big spoon, I guess,” Josh says, but next thing, he's shuffling off the couch, careful to lay Faris' head down gently onto the cushion. “Not that choosy about it.”

Faris just blinks up at him for a second. “What're you-”

“I really can't stay, sorry.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, Faris feels a lot more hungover again. He does this awkward flopping motion until he can halfway sit up without it being too much of an effort, and he watches Josh stretch his arms and try to peel himself from the sticky leather of the couch. “All right.”

“I'd rather stay with you, it's not like that,” Josh says and reaches to sip from his coffee again. “But I need to shower and I've got work in a couple hours and I've got homework to do, so, you know?”

“Yeah.” Yeah, Faris does know. Actually, he's got a deadline in four days for his life illustration class and he's not even halfway finished yet, but right now, he'd rather just spend another few hours asleep and preferably being spooned by Josh. He reaches out one hand to cover Josh's, just loosely feeling it, and Josh tenses underneath his touch. “Sorry.”

And Josh relaxes. “I don't know.” He worries his plump bottom lip between his teeth and says, “I don't really mind it if you're going to touch me, but you're the clingiest one out of all the guys I've ever fucked.”

“Oh.” Faris didn't really think until now that 'clingy' could ever be used as an appropriate word to describe him.

“But you're also the only guy I ever dated while I was fucking him, so,” Josh adds, and it sounds so gross to Faris' ears that he can only imagine how gross Josh is feeling while saying it, like he's ashamed of it. “I don't know.”

Faris doesn't know what to say, either. “Oh.”

And just like that, Josh casually stands up and pulls his t-shirt down to cover as much of his (Faris') pants as possible, and says, “and I need to do my laundry today, too,” and it's too obvious he's trying to change the topic.

“Then do your laundry.” Faris sits up so he can see Josh's face better, or at least what's visible of his face beneath his stupid shaggy fringe, and he's not sure whose fault it is that things are feeling weird between them now. Time to inject some awkward attempt at humour into the situation. “Try to salvage your weird bear print briefs.”

“Yeah.” Josh laughs, just for a short second, that slightly less unpleasant normal-pitched laugh he has, and it still feels weird. “I really did like those pants, so. Would hate for them to be permanently ruined by my neurotic boyfriend's jizz stains.”

This whole conversation has become _so_ awkward. “Yeah.” Faris kind of wants to die. Or at least take a long, long nap. And right then, he realises something that makes him want to die even more. “I'm not gonna have to worry, though? Right?”

“Worry over what?”

“You know,” Faris says. He really, legitimately wants to be dead. Not in a teenage angst way, but it sounds better than continuing this conversation at this moment. Anything is better than continuing this conversation, Faris realises, because of _course_ he's got to make it weird after he spent ages being neurotic over the possibility of making it weird. He wants to kiss Josh again. “Worry that I got you pregnant on accident?”

And then, Josh laughs at him. In the meanest way possible, that is to say, as mean as that stupid giggle he has can sound. “You did not get me pregnant from jizzing on my pants.” He reaches out to plant one hand right on top of Faris' head and says, “not even if your sperm has super powers or something like that, okay? You did not get me pregnant. Don't say that ever again.”

“Yeah.” Faris just looks back up at him. He feels even more like a little dog than before, and it's worse. “Yeah, sorry, I was just. Just wondering.”

Josh pulls at his hair and says, “you're really making it weird now, you know.”

“Yeah.” Faris yields into the touch, lets Josh mess his hair up some more. “Sorry.” He tries to curl his mouth into a smile, an apologetic one, and says, “still figuring this stuff out.”

Josh smiles back at him, and to Faris' relief it doesn't look too forced. “Yeah.” He strokes Faris' fringe from his face once again, makes him squint with the light hitting his eyes, and says, “you're such a neurotic big bird.”

“Just tell me if I fuck up again, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Josh pets over his head once again, and then he steps back.

“You leaving now?” Faris asks, and it sounds weird in his throat, like he dry heaved the words up from his guts. He wants to swallow them back down as soon as they're out, which is stupid, because of course Josh was going to leave, it's not gotten any more real just because he said it out loud, but still.

“I guess.” Josh shrugs. “Gonna put on my trousers and that and then I'm getting the bus, so.” He runs one hand through his fringe to push it out from his eyes and says, “you should go sleep, bird.”

And while that does sound like a good enough idea, Faris is probably going to curl up on the couch with a blanket and pass out as soon as Josh has left the room, it still hurts in the stupidest way.

Faris doesn't say that. He says, “yeah,” and then, “you'll text me when you want to do something, yeah?”

And Josh just laughs at him again. “Of _course_ I'll text you, you idiot.”

He ruffles Faris' hair one last time and then he leaves, and Faris reaches for the blanket he keeps in his living room just in case and folds himself down to fit onto the couch.

 

–

 

The second time they have sex, and the first time they have full-on penetrative sex, they're in Josh's flat. This is approximately a week after the first time, and this time, Josh's made sure he's prepared, he's stocked up on condoms and lube, done all his homework in advance and called in at work to swap his shift for the one later that night, and he's told Joe to go out clubbing with the girls for the night. Basically, everything to ensure he can fuck Faris and fuck him _good_. Maybe go for a second round in the morning, although at this very moment, he's not too sure whether that's going to happen.

Because at this very moment, he's letting Faris put that big cock he has inside for the first time, finally, and. Well. It definitely feels even larger than it looks.

“Wow,” Josh observes when he's felt about half of it slip in, which is already enough dick to be almost balls-deep on any other guy. Really, it's maybe just the fact that he hasn't had anything bigger than two of his own fingers up his front hole in months, but even then, Faris is still _thick_ , possibly the thickest he's had.

“Wow, what?” Faris asks.

If Josh thought he looked pretty and wrecked when he was just getting a hand job, then this is so much worse than that. His hair's messy with sweat, eyes wide with a look in them like he's absolutely amazed by this whole situation, lips red and a faint flush shining through his skin tone. Also, there's at least three new bruises on his throat, all of them courtesy of Josh, which is almost even nicer than his cock stretching Josh open. Which is certainly nice, too, yes, but Josh is already pretty sure he's not going to be able to walk normally tomorrow.

“Your dick's bigger than what it looked like.”

He rubs at his own cock, like that's going to loosen him up that bit further, after he's already had Faris' three fingers inside with plenty of lube. It doesn't exactly work, but it does make the stretch feel less painful, and the scary part is, he knows for fact that's not even all of it. Josh's not going to look down and risk ruining his own mood just now, so he asks, “how much more to go?”

“What?” Faris asks, and then, a split second later, it must have clicked in his brain, because he adds, “like this much.” He makes a gesture with his fingers, and Josh's eyes widen a bit as soon as he realises it's got to be like three inches.

“No way.” Josh hopes the expression on his face makes it obvious that there's no way he's going to let Faris put _another_ three inches worth of dick down him.

“You've got more than half of it in already,” Faris says, and his face is noticeably getting redder, as if _that_ makes it better.

“You're a bloody freak of nature, you know that, right?” Josh asks, and actually, Faris is really cute when he's blushing more and more from the embarrassment that he's getting from being told that his dick is unreasonably huge in a _bad_ way, so Josh pulls him in to smush their lips together.

“Sorry,” Faris says when they break apart, in a ridiculously small voice for a guy as big as him, and _really_. Seeing him all humiliated like that probably shouldn't turn Josh on as much, and it _definitely_ shouldn't make him want to absolutely destroy Faris. “I don't usually, I'm not normally on top with guys.”

And it's _most_ definitely more socially acceptable for him to get turned on by the mental image of Faris on his back or on his hands and knees and begging for his cock, which, however, is a thought Josh will have to save for later. Maybe he'll get Faris to bottom for him if his legs aren't feeling too strung out tomorrow.

“Not my fault you wanted me to put it in you that badly.”

Josh just laughs at him. “Yeah, well, that was before I knew it'd be that big inside me.”

He gets Faris by his fluffy hair rather than his shoulders this time when he moves in to kiss him, mainly so he can pull at it and scratch his nails along his scalp to feel him groan into his mouth. It doesn't _just_ make him groan, though, Faris rolls his hips, thrusting out and then back in and that definitely works for Josh way more than having him slowly dick all the way in.

“Okay,” he says when he has to stop snogging Faris to catch his breath for a second. His hand that was by his cock moves down a little bit further and loosely grabs what part of Faris' cock isn't inside him. “This much, and no further, okay?”

“Okay,” Faris says as well, and then he's leaning down to bury his face in Josh's neck. “You feel nice,” he says, then, lips brushing against Josh's throat.

Josh isn't sure if he wants to deep-down punch Faris in the nose for that or not. Mainly he's just bitter that like this, he can't bite Faris any more, so he settles for scratching down his back and making him thrust a bit more instead.

“You feel nice, too,” he says, maybe groans it a little more than he would have liked, “when you're not trying to cram your whole freaky monster dick into me.”

Faris grunts in response, kissing some more along Josh's neck. “Stop talking. Sex now.”

And, okay, Josh can deal with that. He nods and growls a little more when Faris grinds into him, just lightly, and that must have been the sign for Faris to get going, because he does.

And, okay. After a few minutes of that, Josh comes to realise that this isn't working out at all. Sure, Faris is dicking him at the right angle, so the head of his cock bumps against all the good spots inside of him, but his thrusts are clumsy and sharp, obviously because of Josh's hand keeping his cock from going in too deep, and also, like this, Josh doesn't have any way to touch his own hard cock. So maybe it isn't the _worst_ sex he's ever had, but still.

“Faris,” he drawls, kind of muffled because he's got Faris' mouth on his throat and some of Faris' hair in his mouth. “Stop for a second.”

Faris looks a bit confused when he looks up, or maybe that's that pleasantly-dazed look he always gets from snogging Josh. Which, come to think of it, is also a mental image Josh's going to have to keep in mind. “No sex?”

Josh shakes his head. “This isn't working out.” The hand that had been scratching along Faris' back pushes at his shoulder, until he gets the idea and pulls out. “At all.”

Faris resembles a lost little puppy like that, at the thought of no more sex, and Josh decides to kiss him in order to console him. That kiss turns sloppy quickly, because Faris' bottom lip is just too plump and inviting for Josh to not suck on it, and he makes the nicest little growling noises when Josh sinks his teeth in. He's so ridiculously easy when it comes to pain and Josh is _so_ into it, he's got to move that hand that was holding Faris' dick in place up to his own cock and give it a few strokes. Really, he's still painfully turned on, and he wants more than that, he wants to get Faris' cock back inside him, except maybe have it suck less this time.

“Hey,” Faris says when they pull apart. “Do you think we could...” and then he's trailing off as if Josh could read his mind or something like that.

“What?” Josh asks. A little bit of saliva is sticking to Faris' lip, which is kind of hot in a gross way, but Josh wipes it away with his thumb either way. “You're gonna have to speak in full sentences.”

“You think it'd work out better if you went on top?”

And Josh shrugs. He's never really let a guy fuck him like that, mainly because he didn't want eyes all on his chest and hips and that when he was all exposed and riding on a dick, but on the other hand, Faris is pretty good at not being an arsehole like that. Also, the thought of pressing his lanky big body down into the sheets and using his cock to get off _does_ sound appealing to Josh. “We could try that, I guess,” he says, and he's already pushing at Faris' shoulder to get him to lie down.

“Great.” Faris goes down easily enough, arms crossed behind his head. Like this, his dick lies flat against his stomach, the condom-covered tip coming up to just below his belly button, and Josh ponders on how _ridiculous_ that is when he takes it it one hand as he straddles Faris' hips.

“Can you lube me up again?”

“Yeah.”

Faris has the most _fond_ look on his face when he says it, and when he actually slicks up two fingers and leads them to between Josh's legs. Josh twitches a bit at the sensation of cold lube when those fingers brush against his front hole and slip in a little ways to get him nice and wet, but that twitch turns much more pleasant when Faris decides to flick his thumb against Josh's cock, too. That's only one flick, though, and then he's pulling his hand off, with the most irritatingly innocent expression on his face.

“There you go.”

“Okay.”

Josh tightens his grip on Faris' cock and just rubs it down his slit for a second. As much as he wants it inside him, he's also quietly terrified of its size, still, needs to work up some courage before he takes the plunge and actually puts it in.

Faris groans for a long second while he's sinking down, and when he's seated properly above Faris' hips, Josh joins in.

“Better?”

Josh experimentally rocks his hips, which is. Nice. “I guess.” He can feel himself jiggling as he does it, though, which is. “I feel gross.”

“Why d'you,” Faris starts, and then he seems to get the idea, because his brow furrows and he says, “oh.” One of his long arms stretches down past the side of the bed and grabs for something on the floor, and he asks, “d'you want to put on a t-shirt or something?”

“Yeah.”

Really, Josh is so ridiculously enamoured with this stupid caring boy, it makes his insides draw up tight. Also, makes him want to destroy Faris in the most tender and loving way imaginable, but he'll have to save that for later. For now, he's going to put on that t-shirt, which is actually one of Faris' and fits just right and loose enough, and then ride Faris' dick into oblivion.

His hands slot just right into the space beneath Faris' ribcage, and he asks, “hey, can you touch my cock for me when I ride you?”

Yeah. This is definitely working out.

 

–

 

Josh wakes up to Faris' warm body pressed against his back and a sting between his legs that he knows will only get worse if he gets up to make tea now, so he doesn't. There's a duller ache forming in his thighs, too, muscle burn from bouncing up and down on Faris' dick, and Josh's pretty sure it's for the best if he just doesn't leave his bed at all for the day. Stupid ridiculous caring Faris with his stupid big penis. And his stupid arms wrapped around Josh's middle and his stupid breath right in Josh's ear, and his bare skin is all too stupidly warm, too, and maybe Josh doesn't really _want_ to leave his bed at all. Maybe he should just let Faris cuddle him for the next twelve hours, that sounds like a pretty good plan. Almost as good as going back to sleep, but then.

“Hey.” Faris' voice is bleary with sleep and soft against his ear.

“Hey there.”

Faris hums. His cock is soft when it rubs against Josh's arse, to Josh's relief. Not that he doesn't appreciate morning wood sex as much as the next guy, but he doesn't think he's up for getting that into any hole in his body this early on. Or up for moving at all, for that matter.

“How're you feeling?”

Josh shrugs and interlaces their fingers across his stomach. “Fucked out.” He thinks back to last night again, besides the fact that it's left him stupidly sore, and smiles to himself. “Worth it, though.”

Faris laughs and nuzzles into his jaw. “'m glad.” Then he must have remembered _something_ , because his bones lock up that bit tighter, and he asks, “hey, what time's it?”

“Not sure.” Josh shifts until he's lying on his back, and until he can raise his head to see the alarm clock on the bedside behind Faris. “Bit past ten.” Which is entirely too early for his tastes, considering it's Saturday and he could have slept at least two more hours and still spent his time having fun with the naked boy in his bed until he has to be somewhere else, so at that realisation, he lets out a drawn-out “ugh”.

“Too early for you?” Faris asks, and then he's kissing Josh, just quick and gentle.

“Way too early.”

And that one kiss wasn't near enough for Josh, so he pulls Faris back down by the back of his neck and really licks into his mouth. If there's one thing that makes being up early actually _bearable_ that's snogging, and, Josh reckons, it'd maybe be even more bearable if Faris' stupid big hands on his waist went ahead and trailed down to between his legs already. Josh could definitely deal with that, with having Faris' long fingers on his cock and inside him, and maybe also with taking Faris' dick down his throat, as long as he doesn't have to move too much. So he's actually steadily getting hard _and_ wet, so maybe it's him who's got the morning erection here.

Faris doesn't seem to be getting the hint that is Josh rubbing his hips up against what little friction the duvet provides, though, because when he pulls back, it's to ask, “what time do you reckon your flatmate's coming back?”

Way to kill the mood. What little mood there is, as it is, because Faris tastes like morning breath and he kisses sloppy and sleepy and yeah, there's no mood to speak of, there's just Josh having an inconvenient stiffie. He still does a disappointed little growl, though, takes a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes as if that would help him think straight more easily, and also help with getting rid of that boner.

“He got back last night, at about three AM,” he says then, “don't tell me you slept through that?”

Actually, Josh remembers that very vividly, because somehow, despite having lived with Joe for over a year now, he's still not deaf to the amount of havoc and noise that occurs every time Joe comes home drunk in the middle of the night.

“Yeah.” Faris blinks back down at him and looks about as sleepy as Josh feels. “I must have missed that.” Then, he's moving down to properly lay on top of Josh, face smushed into his neck, and completely contrary to that, he says, “guess that means I better leave soon.”

Which sounds _terrible_ , because Josh had fully intended to not let Faris leave until they'd at least had breakfast. And sloppy sticky morning sex. “No, no.” Josh ruffles Faris' messy hair, mainly because it's right there, and also, because some part of his brain is convinced that he's more likely to not go just yet if he gets a sufficient amount of head pats. Like a little puppy dog or something. “Stay here with me.” Faris makes more and more satisfied noises the more Josh scratches his head, especially behind his ears, which just confirms to Josh that he's secretly some overgrown half-boy half-pup. “Flatmate's not up for the next three hours, probably.”

And Faris relaxes, as much as it's possible to relax when he was already this close to just lying down on Josh's chest like a dead weight, and actually makes a point of kissing Josh's neck. “Okay.”

“Mm.” Josh is _so_ ready to have sloppy morning sex.

And then Faris asks, “can I still get up to make tea?” and just about shatters Josh's hopes of getting morning sex, but on the other hand, Josh would appreciate getting breakfast in bed, too.

“Tea,” Josh confirms. “Make mine with two sugars and milk in.”

“Gross.”

Faris gets up slowly, makes a show of how much his bones crack when he does, as if that could possibly be worse than being so sore from being dicked that you don't want to leave your bed for a week. Maybe Josh's just a little bitter that Faris would rather go and make breakfast than stay in bed to snog him some more and then make that soreness so much worse. He watches Faris search his pants out of the pile of clothes on the floor, watches as he pulls them up his long legs and then fits his ridiculous dick into them, too, and then he's gone.

And then Josh's listening to him wash up in the bathroom and mess around with the cabinets in the kitchen, and the whole time, he's maybe considering just sneaking in a wank before Faris gets back just so he can get the edge off how stupidly turned on he is. Which is maybe because he's got this whole train of thought playing in the back of his head on just how he'd like to fuck Faris. Maybe let Faris give him head, because as much as Josh doesn't like the thought of that, he would _definitely_ like to see Faris with his lips around a cock, no matter what size. Or between his thighs as Josh straddles his head, so he can barely breathe. Maybe a 69, or he could let Faris fuck him again, from behind this time, or he could top Faris. Maybe all of the above, in that order, that sounds good. But probably won't happen, because Faris only wants to drink tea.

Josh really fucking hates hormones and the effect they've been having on his sex drive.

As it is, when Faris comes back, Josh hasn't had a sneaky wank, and he's bringing two cups of tea on a fucking _tray_. Josh isn't even sure where he dug that up from. There's also French toast, he notices that when Faris sets the tray down in the middle of the bed carefully, with banana sliced on top. Really.

That's probably the moment when Josh decides, for good, that Faris is absolutely _ridiculous_ , and he says that, too.

“You're ridiculous.”

“What,” Faris says back, when he scoots into bed and pulls the duvet across his lap, “for bringing you breakfast in bed?”

“Well, yeah,” Josh says. And really, it's not just that he made breakfast, it's more that everything else he does is ridiculous and caring, and that just cements it, but he's not going to tell Faris that just yet. He's also not going to turn down French toast. “Thanks, though.”

Faris makes a grab for his cup of tea. “Not a problem,” he says, blowing at the steam rising up from it, and then, “you were really low on syrup, so if it tastes funny...”

Josh shoves a big piece of bread into his mouth and chews. “It doesn't taste funny.” Then, because it suddenly hits him that Faris might also want to eat breakfast, he adds, “want to share?”

So then, they eat in silence for a little while, and maybe also spend some of that time feeding French toast to each other, which is _disgustingly_ sappy, but also kind of nice. Until the toast's gone and Faris sets the tray down onto the floor so he can lie back and spread himself out properly.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Josh says back when he moves so he can fit snugly into Faris' side and under his arm. “That was good.”

“Thank you.”

“You should make me breakfast more often.”

Faris makes a pleased humming noise, one that Josh can't help but join in on. And Josh is _so_ sorely tempted to roll over and kiss him and maybe see if he can get another round of sex out of him, after all, but then he remembers the reason why Faris said he was going to leave pretty soon.

“Why don't you like Joe?”

“Oh fuck.” And that answer alone makes Josh want to find out what it is that much more. “Well.” Faris pulls the duvet a little ways down his chest and reaches for his fags on the bedside. “D'you mind if I smoke in here? I've been craving one all morning.”

Josh shrugs and watches Faris light up.

“So me and Joe were pretty close at some point, like a year ago or so,” Faris starts. “When we were both just starting out at uni, because we had some classes together and we liked the same music and stuff.”

He throws a short aside glance to Josh, and Josh nods to show that yes, he's still listening. Actually, right then, he remembers something.

“Yeah,” he says. “I think he mentioned you to me a couple times back then, actually.” He really does remember Joe talking about this guy he met at uni, some tall gay boy who he absolutely should introduce to Josh and Dilys. Which never happened, for some reason, and then Joe just stopped talking about that guy, and Josh's insides shudder at the thought that there's a reason for that.

“That's pretty weird,” Faris says, matter of fact. “That we ended up dating only way after I stopped talking to that mutual friend we had, I mean”

Josh just shrugs again.

“So. So me and Joe were pretty close and this one evening my parents decided to take me out for family dinner, and I asked them if I could bring along a friend, 'cause you know, art students, shitty diet of pot noodles.”

Faris laughs, then, and Josh can't bring himself to laugh along because it's _so_ obvious that he's getting uncomfortable with telling this story.

“So we go to dinner at this posh restaurant, and it's me, Joe, mum, dad, and my little brothers, and then at some point during the conversation makes an offhand comment about me being gay.”

And, okay, that doesn't sound nearly as terrible as whatever worst-case scenario Josh could have thought of, but the fact that right after, Faris takes a heavy drag from his fag and sighs makes it obvious that must've been a pretty big deal.

Josh says, “oh.”

“Yeah,” Faris says. “I don't even remember what he said, I think he was halfway joking, but still, it set my dad off. And obviously he couldn't really make a scene, because we were in public and all that, but as soon as we were out there and Joe was gone he started to dig in, he wanted to know if that was true, if I was really into guys.” He pauses to smoke another drag, and his voice is still calm, like, unsettlingly calm. Josh hates his stupid emotionless demeanour more than he ever did before. “The only reason he didn't cut me off or kick me out over it was because my mum started yelling at him right then when he threatened to do it, but he still said some really awful things to my face, so we stopped talking to each other for the next few months.”

Josh's guts are curling in on themselves tighter and tighter as he listens. He mainly wants to turn around and give Faris a big hug, because at that second, Faris looks like he really needs one, but then, aside from the whole sex thing, Faris doesn't seem to like being touched, so he'd rather not go for it.

Instead, he just says, “fuck, I'm sorry,” and moves a fraction of an inch closer into Faris' side.

“No need to be." Faris fits his arm tighter around Josh's shoulders in response, which makes Josh feel a _little_ less awful, he guesses. “He's come around since then, I think, because he said he accepts it, but I'm still pretty sure if I ever brought a bloke home for dinner he'd just slam the door in my face.” And he laughs, dryly.

Josh hates it so much.

“He's always been like that, with gay people, because of how he was raised, and Joe knew that. I told him that. So the next time I saw him at school I told him about what happened after that dinner and he just told me he _forgot_ and we got into this big argument and since then I stopped speaking to him and it's really awkward.” Faris reaches for the ashtray on the bedside and puts out his cigarette, and, as if to conclude, he says, “yeah.”

“Yeah.” Josh swallows. “I'm still sorry that happened to you,” and swallows again, “glad my parents were more accepting than that.” And really, he feels ill, incredibly ill, like he needs a fag, but he doesn't think it'd be appropriate to ask Faris to bum him one right now, and he's too lazy to walk over to the kitchen and grab his own fags that he'd left on the counter.

So for a few agonizingly long seconds, they just sit there in an awkward silence.

“I can't believe Joe would really do that,” Josh says then, and immediately feels kind of like an arsehole, but, really. “I mean, he never fucked up like that with me and Dilys.” And then, once he realises what he's said, he feels like a way bigger arsehole.

“Yeah.” Faris reaches for his fags again and lights one up, and then offers the pack to Josh. “D'you want to bum one off me?”

And Josh obviously would like to say yes, but he's already feeling like an arsehole at this point and that would just make it worse. He shakes his head. “I'm good.”

Faris blows a big cloud of smoke up towards the ceiling. “Yeah, I don't think Joe's really a bad person. He's incredibly daft, that's it, and now it's been over a year since we had that fight and since then I've tried to avoid him as hard as possible, so now it'd be really awkward.”

“I guess so.” Josh turns to lay his head on Faris' chest, just a little, and Faris doesn't flinch. “I'm just glad you're not actually mortal enemies or something. Something worse than that.”

Faris shrugs, non-committally. “Yeah.” He wraps his arm around Josh once again, rubs at his back for a second before he lays his hand down, just lightly. “So you've just asked me an uncomfortable question, I guess that means I'm allowed to ask you one now.”

Josh barely twitches, so subtly Faris can't possibly feel it, and really hopes the question won't be about Dilys. “Go ahead.”

“What's it like for you when you have sex?”

So, okay, that's one uncomfortable question that's even _more_ uncomfortable than any question about Dilys. “What?”

“I mean what it's like when you're using the parts that you don't want on your body during sex, not the technicalities of what having a vagina is like,” Faris says, and apparently that question is making him just as uncomfortable as it's making Josh. Josh secretly hopes he feels like an arsehole over asking it.

“Oh.” Josh moves so he's lying on his back again, and he folds his arms over his chest. He really wants a fag now.

“You don't have to answer it if it's too uncomfortable, okay?” Faris asks. “It's just, I've been wondering, because I couldn't find what it's like for you on the internet or anything, and I thought if we're gonna keep shagging I should know how you feel about it.”

He clears his throat, and he's making such a _twat_ out of himself that Josh actually finds it endearing. He actually cares enough to ask about stuff, which is a stupidly low standard to set, yes, but it's a nice change, even if he's still a twat about it. Also, the amount of twatness Faris is giving off at that moment is making Josh feel more comfortable with the thought of asking him for a smoke.

“It's all right. Can I bum a fag off you now?”

“Yeah, here.”

“Thanks.” Josh lights up and coughs, and he says, “well, obviously sex isn't _totally_ bad for me. I mean, I like it as much as everyone when I get my junk touched. Nerve endings and that down there.” Which probably isn't the answer Faris is looking for, but Josh is doing it to stall, just a little. He doesn't like talking about that feeling, the wrong one, because that inevitably leads to him actually feeling it.

Faris says, “duh.”

“Yeah.” Josh shifts. His legs are too close together, he plants them apart. “But the problem is that my brain also says I shouldn't even have those parts I'm having touched so there's this disconnect and this big wrongness and it's _really_ gross.” He sucks on his fag and pulls a face and makes sure Faris can see it.

“Sounds terrible,” Faris says, and he looks like he means it. “You should, you know, tell me when it's too bad. Like if we're having sex and you want to stop you should just say it.”

And, okay, Josh does appreciate the effort he's making, but on the other hand, Faris is also making a much bigger deal out of this than what's necessary. “Yeah,” he says, and then, “I mainly just ignore it, you know, if I can ignore it. It's not that bad.” Then, because he notices the positively _horrified_ look Faris is shooting him, like he's questioning how Josh can just ignore that kind of thing, he adds, “it's only really bad if I have to look at myself naked or touch my junk. Used to be a lot worse before the hormones.”

Faris just nods, dimly, and Josh can't blame it. He isn't sure what to say himself.

“I don't really like talking about this stuff.”

“Don't talk about it, then,” Faris says. “That's okay.”

“I just got done talking about it.” And, because now he feels like he's the one who really needs a hug, he rolls over and snuggles himself into Faris' side, and wraps one arm around him to make sure he won't get away. “You still gonna stay?”

“Guess I have to,” Faris replies, and he sounds more than content with that. He turns his head to kiss Josh's forehead and all.

“Nice.” Josh presses his head further onto Faris' chest, to really be able to hear his heartbeat, which is disgustingly sappy, but he's in the mood for sappy. “D'you want to cuddle for the next few hours?”

 

\--

 

So it's been roughly two months since that first time they had sex, and also roughly two months since the _other_ first time they had sex, and if someone asked, Faris would say it's going well.

Really well, since that first time, there'd been plenty of other times. And plenty of hand jobs and a couple of blow jobs, too, and once or twice, Faris had slipped down between Josh's legs while he had two fingers inside him and sucked his cock until he _whined_.

Other than that, there'd been lots of long late night conversations and coffee dates and snogging sessions with Josh's collection of My Bloody Valentine records playing in the back, and a couple of parties which ended up being relatively all right with Josh there. And also with Dilys there, because she turned out to be pretty all right and also _really_ knowledgeable about music even if her laugh is incredibly annoying. And Faris has had some awkward conversations with Joe since then, which still weren't close to being as awkward as Faris would have feared, though.

So all in all he would say it's going really, really well, he's just woken up in a warm bed to the sensation of Josh's tousled hair tickling his neck and his cock rubbing against his thigh, and he doesn't think he wants to get away from that any time soon. He watches Josh sleep for a bit, watches his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and his lips twitch, and honestly, he's pretty adorable like that.

Which isn't something Faris would ever tell him normally, because Josh would just insist that he's _not_ adorable, or probably mock Faris for being a huge sap. Still, he can't help but feel all warm at Josh nuzzling his nose deeper against his chest and making a soft sleepy Josh noise, a warm glow in his chest that matches the liquid warmth still in his spine, the feeling he always gets after Josh had him face-first into the mattress and fucked him until he collapsed when he came.

And that's, yeah, probably a solid argument against Josh being strictly adorable, but he still reminds Faris of a sleeping puppy when he raises his head and blinks with bleary eyes. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Faris says back. He tilts his head for Josh to lean forward and kiss him, soft and languid. He lets Josh thumb at his jaw and move his head to eat at his mouth just as he pleases, growls a little into it when Josh keeps on humping his leg like he did when he was still asleep, and his hands go to the soft creases of Josh's thighs. “I hope you don't expect me to make breakfast already.”

“That bad?” Josh asks and cackles.

Faris almost wants to make some snarking comment back at him, but he's not really awake enough to think one up just yet, so he goes for kissing Josh's forehead instead. “Worth it,” he says, then, and kisses Josh some more just to shut him up.

Josh goes with it without complaint, deepens the kiss and strokes down Faris' side with his free hand, and Faris wants so much and isn't really sure whether what he wants is sloppy sex or just cuddles for the next three hours.

“Faris?” Josh eventually says, when he's pulling back for just a second. “Are you aware that you have an erection?” and the way he says it is so stupidly matter-of-fact and _unsexy_ that he busts out laughing at his own words pretty much right after.

Faris laughs along, but, oh, yeah. He actually _wasn't_ aware of that one. Either way, he still says, “yeah,” and then his fingers go from Josh's thigh around to his cock. “So do you.”

Josh has the worst look on his face, that stupid little grin that he only gets when he's having graphic thoughts about sex acts, Faris has noticed, and he says, “nice.”

And that's that.

 


End file.
